


Begin Again

by ObliviousPoptart



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abusive Relationship, All Triggers In Notes As Needed, Alternate Universe - Human, America Is a Good Brother, Anxiety Attacks, Author Doesn't Know What Consistent Updates Are, Canada Is Not a Virgin, Depression, Dissociation, Drug Use, Emotional Abuse, FACE Family (ish), Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Friendship is great, Getting Together, Human AU, Human Names Used, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Recovery, Recreational Drug Use, Russia Bashing, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexual Abuse, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, i'm sorry to those who love russia, it'll get much lighter and happier i promise, take these tags seriously, teenage mistakes, the first several chapters are just heavy with abuse, these tags are everywhere, unhealthy coping habits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2018-11-14 07:22:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliviousPoptart/pseuds/ObliviousPoptart
Summary: Matthew has had a rough few years. Well, a lot more than just rough, but he wasn't interested in looking too deep into it, not if he liked feeling normal. But, he was starting to reconnect with his friends, his family. Maybe he could even start a new relationship. Start all over again. But life wasn't, and had never been, particularly kind to Matthew, so it wasn't going to work out well for him, right?Not with that kind of attitude it wasn't! But recovery was a long road with no clear end and he didn't have a map. Hopefully, he didn't take a wrong turn and end up right back where he was when this all started. And he was getting desperate if he was resorting to cliche metaphors.





	1. Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of how exactly Matthew got himself into the situation he was in with Ivan as well as how it developed. But not to the point where it got so much worse before it got better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Noncon/rape elements (nongraphic), emotional abuse (nongraphic), physical abuse (nongraphic), recreational drug use, dissociation, self-blame
> 
> I'm so sorry for anyone who has suffered any type of abuse from family, friends, or lovers, and you are not alone. And I hope I portrayed this as best as I could. I know first-hand the abuse of a parent but I am grateful that no relationship has made me experience it and I'm sorry if I misrepresented the struggle in any way. Please, give me your feedback and suggestions! I would love to give this horrible experience the justice and representation it deserves.
> 
> Again, if you are at all triggered by sexual, physical, or emotional abuse, please do not torture yourself with this. I don't go into graphic detail, the sexual abuse being implied once it reaches a certain point, but please do not try to subject yourself to something that makes you uncomfortable. Much love and thank you for reading.
> 
> Edit: For anyone wondering, I deleted the original first chapter, as it was something I posted long ago on FF.net and didn't go with the flow of what I wanted for this story's beginning. It was the inspiration for this but not what I wanted the first impression to be any longer.

The thing was, it all started in high school, where most shitty life decisions start.

Matthew was 17 and bitter about life and his family with the itch under his skin of needing to get out of the house, as most seniors in high school did.

The rivalry with his twin brother Alfred wasn’t making life much better, in all honesty. So, what did he do? He rebelled.

Not in the traditional sense of switching Alfred’s shampoo with hair dye or covering his clothing in itching powder or any of the _harmless_ things he _should_ have done instead.

No. He may have a near-perfect GPA but that did not mean he was smart.

So he did the stupid thing and got involved with the wrong people.

Okay, maybe not the _wrong_ people because they were still his friends, even when they all graduated and realized maybe life wasn’t as simple as college and getting a job as Disney Channel movies advertised. No. They were just the people Alfred didn’t like. Which was why it was all the more important that Matthew befriended them.

Turned out those people were really into the whole drugs, sex, and alcohol thing. Matthew wasn’t huge on any of those and had his grades to focus on. But they were still his friends and he got high with them on occasion when life got tough.

He wasn’t _fond_ of their pass times. Didn’t mean he didn’t __do__  them.

Where it all went very, _very_ wrong for Matthew was when he decided there was one person who he hadn’t befriended that was _vital_ in his plan to Piss Off Alfred because Alfred _despised_ him.

And that person was Ivan Braginski.

They were on the same hockey team supported by the school and knew each other by name. Meaning he wouldn’t be mistaken for Alfred by him like he had many of his other crushes. After he talked a little more to Ivan in the locker room and after practice, it really wasn’t hard to realize they had similar goals in mind.

They started as most high school relationships did: hot and heavy and probably too fast. And filled with rebellion and the hormones of a teenage boy, well, Matthew didn’t stay as “naïve” as his friends believed him to be. Specifically Gilbert, Mat, and Ned. Assholes.

But yeah, they became as experienced as two teenage boys could get at sex in that time before they graduated. And it wasn’t just the sex, either. They did the normal things high school couples did. Sure, it involved more hiding because Matthew wasn’t big on public affection (even if the public didn’t notice him) and they were two gay boys in a small town (with a larger LGBT+ population than Matthew originally thought _possible_ but whatever) and that _never_ boded well.

And it worked, was the amazing thing. Movie dates, drive-ins, dinner at a local Italian place, double dates, fucking in Ivan’s car. Normal, high school couple stuff. Sure, they were off-and-on again. All couples were, right? And, yeah, maybe Ivan got a little rough during foreplay and sex than Matthew was really comfortable with, but what was the occasional bruise? It was his first serious relationship _ever_ , and he was a little more than giddy whenever he said or thought “my boyfriend” in regards to Ivan.

The thing was, though, the excuses didn’t _stop_. The list of things Matthew realized probably wasn't normal was growing, but this was his first serious relationship, what did he know? It could have just been his inexperience.

If he started buying makeup a town away, where no one would recognize him to hide the more apparent evidence of Ivan’s _excitement_ , well, that wasn’t something anyone else should have concerned themselves with.

Matthew was happy, though. Most days, anyway. Before he knew it, he was walking across the stage with Honor cords and all, blushing and vehemently ignoring his brother’s and his asshole friends’ shouts. And he and Ivan were staying close, going to local colleges. Matthew thought it was tough with just Alfred? Ivan had two sisters and several cousins under his roof. For the both of them, pricey colleges just weren’t an option.

By Christmas of their sophomore years, two years into their relationship, Ivan brought up the idea of moving in together into a little apartment in between their respective community colleges. Matthew absolutely said yes. They were almost 20 and Matthew felt they were ready, already envisioning how their life together would go.

Matthew, many years later, saw that agreement as the beginning of the end.

The first few months were fine, especially since they spent a lot of their time fucking on every available surface. They wanted to make the tiny apartment __theirs__ , and what better way to do that than leaving their mark on it. Matthew couldn’t quite get over how the apartment was their _home_ now. Let’s just say he wasn’t a passive party when it came to the sex. It was sort of his idea, anyway.

But about three months into it, things started… shifting with them. Well, not really with _them_ but more with _Ivan_. It wasn’t like he changed, he was the same to Matthew. He was still sweet and occasionally shy and always showing how much he loved having Matthew as his.

The problem became when Matthew suddenly realized when he had to cancel plans _again_ with Gilbert and Alistair because Ivan wanted him home, that he was probably not in a good situation. But he didn’t do anything about it. Just sent the text to Alistair and Gilbert with an apology and went about with his day. The thought didn’t stay.

It did show up again, though. It was the night they were having an argument, one of many as of recent. Matthew was beginning to feel like a caged animal, too often told not to go out and spend time with __his_ friends _because Ivan didn’t want him to. He was even having trouble being allowed to go to _work_ and _school_ because of him. And Matthew was a lot of things, but he wasn’t passive unless you added "aggressive" to the end of that. So he was getting fed up and restless and Ivan was getting frustrated with his rebellion. It didn’t help that they had both had some drinks during dinner.

The thought that he wasn’t in a good place with Ivan came when he felt a slap across his face and the residual stinging that followed. Matthew stood there, staring at Ivan in shock with a stinging in his cheek and eyes, feeling betrayed. Ivan simply huffed and said he was going for a smoke.

Matthew may or may not have run to the bathroom and cried once he was alone. And then grabbed a stash of pot and went to the opposite balcony to try and forget.

The though left again, Matthew chalking up the slap to tension and drinks, especially when Ivan apologized profusely the next day and took him out to a nice dinner.

Nothing else happened for a couple more months. Maybe Ivan got more controlling, but it could have been Matthew just overreacting, and besides, who needed to spend that much time with his friends when he had Ivan?

But it was after a long day in the middle of a long week at the end of a long month. Exams were right around the corner, as was graduation for everyone’s associates, and tensions were high. Matthew had barely slept any, camping out in the living room to study Psychology, usually with Ivan by his side studying Physics and Russian literature (why that combination, Matthew didn’t know) when they weren’t both working or getting in power naps. Matthew had figured that tonight, since exams began tomorrow and he would rather not drool on his first one, that he should get a good night’s rest.

Ivan had other ideas.

As Matthew was undressing for bed, Ivan supposedly outside finishing a cigarette, the man in question came up behind Matthew, resting his (cold, always cold) hands on his hips and pressing heated kisses to the back of his neck and shoulders.

Grimacing slightly, far too tired to be up for anything, Matthew shook his head and stepped away. “Not tonight, snowflake. Please? I just want to sleep before exams start,” he said, removing and tossing his shirt in the general direction of the hamper.

Again, Ivan had other ideas.

He grabbed Matthew forcefully, pressing his back against the wall and leaving harsh kisses along his neck and jaw. Scowling, Matthew attempted to push the larger man away. “Knock it off, Ivan, I’m serious!”

Ivan growled, properly _growled_ , but not in the way Matthew was so accustomed to, this one was far more _dangerous _,__  as he grabbed Matthew’s wrists forcefully to keep him pinned, using his other hand to push roughly against his clothed crotch. Ivan’s mouth moved from his neck to his mouth, shoving a tongue down Matthew’s throat, despite the other man’s continue wriggling.

Pulling away, Ivan offered his lover a smirk. “Why are you struggling, Голубушка? You are stressed, I am going to help you with it,” he purred, pressing soft kisses to his face.

Matthew groaned, shaking his head. “Ivan, I said no. Maybe later, after exams, okay?” Hoping Ivan got the message, he struggled again, expecting to be released so he and his boyfriend could go to sleep.

But the grip around his wrists only got tighter, and Ivan frowned. “But Mattie, I did not give you a choice,” he said, sounding almost genuinely confused.

The rest of that night was not something Matthew cared to remember, though he had no trouble staying awake during the tests the next day. Sleep would not be his problem for the next couple of days, at least.

That was the third time Matthew became concerned with his relationship with Ivan.

* * *

 

The incidents only became more common as time went on. Eventually, after about a year further of more incidents, Matthew realized it would be much smarter for him to not resist. By now, Ivan had run many of his friends off, either through threats or not allowing Matthew to continue participating in the relationship. If he left, it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go, as Ivan had told him repeatedly when he sensed doubt like a shark would sense blood.

Alfred was beginning to get concerned, as thick as his head was, and it wasn’t like Ivan could cut Matthew off from his own family.

That was his first mistake, really. Doubting. It only encouraged Ivan to isolate him further.

So, four years into the relationship with the pair of them close to earning their bachelor's in their respective studies, Ivan decided it was time for them to move from an apartment to their own house. Matthew had no idea how they were going to do that, both in debt with their student loans and work not offering enough money to offer a down payment nor any company willing to loan out money to a couple of young adults unless it was for schooling.

Ivan said he had it covered, of course, and he wouldn’t tell Matthew how. He was debating whether he actually wanted to know or not.

True to his word, about two weeks later, Ivan came to Matthew saying he had procured them a house and completely paid for it. All Matthew did was nod and began to pack the apartment up while Ivan dealt with the Realtor. He didn’t know what the house looked like, but he doubted his opinion mattered either way at this point.

So they had a house, boxes lined the walls and any available surface, with only sparse furniture littering the house. It was small, only one bedroom with a couple of bathrooms and a largely open floor plan. Ivan loved it, Matthew was indifferent.

When they had finally unloaded all the boxes from Ivan and Matthew’s cars, Ivan leaned against the wall and offered Matthew a predatory smile. “Should we christen this place like we did the apartment, Голубушка?”

Matthew didn’t say no. He also secretly unloaded an entire supply of makeup into his closet to use once Ivan was done with him. Ivan liked, as he put it, to be able to see evidence that Matthew was _his_.

And Matthew was _entirely_ his. He wondered, on days he was more aware of his surroundings rather than drifting around dazedly, whether he had any part of him left for himself that Ivan didn’t already possess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Голубушка - darling


	2. Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew begins to remember what freedom and independence means. And he realizes it's sometimes terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Recovery, self-blame, panic attacks (nongraphic), vomiting (nongraphic), victim blaming (sort of)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read this! It's my first work published on AO3, but not my first work ever by far. I would really appreciate feedback and anything else you have to say! I hope will continue for much longer and maybe go in the direction I want it to (though when does writing ever do that). Enjoy!
> 
> Warnings for anxiety attacks, dissociation, and depression. Matthew is very much dealing with the effects of what happened, though we don't really know the full extent yet, so the next few chapters will probably take a similar path of recovery. Which isn't easy, folks. Trust me.

The thing was, it ended with more of a pathetic whimper than the explosion that Matthew thought it would.

He expected it to end with screams and pain and a visit from the local police department because of suspicious noise.

But it didn’t. It just… _ended_.

Sure, the aftermath wasn’t pretty, and Matthew spent plenty of time on his brother’s couch with a weapon nearby because Ivan was nothing if not persistent, but it ended quietly compared to the rest of the relationship.

There were no scars Matthew could point to on the timeline that body was covered in and say, “There. That is from the night it was over.”

Matthew didn’t know quite what happened, his mind was far more disconnected at the time than had been normal _after_ , but from what he could remember, Ivan just got bored of him.

And maybe he should have been glad of that, that his terror was finally over because his captor just didn’t find him interesting anymore, but it also felt like a punch in the gut.

This was the man who he had loved in his teenage years and loved in a twisted way that didn’t really feel like love but more submission later, the man who had obsessed over Matthew to a point he no longer wanted to remember. And it all ended because Ivan got _bored_.

He could blame Ivan for torturing the fun of torture out of Matthew, but a part of him that sounded suspiciously like him liked to say it was because he was so unnoticeable and uninteresting that even a man who made his entire life about Matthew became tired of him.

But a much, much larger part of him that was just so _tired_ of _caring_ said it didn’t even fucking matter what happened as long as it was over. That Ivan had just looked at him across the dinner table one night, said he was bored of Matthew, and told him to be out of the house by the time he got home from work tomorrow.

The survivalist part of Matthew kicked into gear immediately, though he knew better than to start packing what little belongings he cherished in front of Ivan or even before Ivan left for work in the morning.

It took no time for Matthew to be ready to leave. He treasured few things anymore.

So that left him with the question of where to go, he just lost his house, and he knew immediately where.

Alfred may not have been a bright one when it came to emotions, but he knew his twin like the back of his hand (not that he knew that very well but he tried). Alfred had been the first to notice, even before their parents, that Matthew was in a bad spot with Ivan. Granted, Alfred always thought that, what with his hatred for the Russian since grade school, but he really began to take it seriously when Matthew started shying and eventually flinching away from his brother’s rough affection, a thing he used to just accept or brush off so casually.

When Matthew showed up at Alfred’s apartment with a backpack and a box, the younger twin said nothing, just letting his brother in and, when he had set down his things with shaking hands, pulled him into a tight hug, one Matthew managed to accept happily and not leave for several hours.

That was how Matthew began living on his brother’s couch, allowing himself time to slowly integrate back into society as Ivan had slowly extracted him from it.

It… Wasn’t easy.

For a full month, Matthew did not leave the apartment. He felt awful for it, not working, even with a perfectly fine bachelor’s degree. Alfred said it was perfectly fine, to stop worrying and just give himself time, but Matthew hated freeloading in his brother’s one-bedroom apartment, occasionally cleaning but not doing much else and losing hours to simply sitting on the couch and just… _floating_ was the only way Matthew could describe it. It was like he had an outside perspective of himself, even when he consciously made decisions to walk around and do various tasks. Matthew didn’t know what it was or how to stop it, but it wasn’t hurting him he didn’t think, so he saw no harm.

After that month, Matthew finally decided enough was enough and motivated himself to leave the house to do the weekly grocery shopping for Alfred. His brother wasn’t keen on the idea but knew better than to stop him and just suggested that Alfred go with him. Matthew said no, of course, not wanting to be a bother and wanting to feel the independence he hadn’t known for years.

In hindsight, Matthew should have let Alfred go with him.

Everything was just fine, he was halfway through with the list (which was exceptionally long, thanks to Alfred’s intense need for food at all times) when he spotted a man with blond hair and a tall, bulky build and Matthew didn’t even know if it was Ivan or someone else, never saw his face, but it was more than enough to send Matthew sprinting for the bathroom, barely making it in time to empty the contents of his stomach into the grocery store toilet, the stall door bouncing loudly against the wall but Matthew didn’t give a damn. He continued to vomit until nothing was left, and yet still his stomach quivered with terror, his hands shaking so drastically he could barely keep a grip on the toilet seat and hold his hair back. Once his body realized that perhaps there wasn’t much more it could do to empty Matthew’s stomach, it allowed him to slump to the wall, completely spent, with breath coming frantically and clammy hands quivering.

His vision was tunneling and he felt a cold sweat beginning to develop all over his body and he may have thrown up but that hadn’t eased the nausea he felt clawing at his stomach. A small moment of clarity allowed Matthew the chance to call his brother and quietly ask or beg, whichever worked, for Alfred to come pick him up from the store. He felt awful that he had left the grocery basket sitting in its spot in a random aisle, but no part of Matthew wished to return there. He would apologize to Alfred later. Right now, he just needed a nap. Or a drink. Whichever was easier.

Things didn’t get much better after that, but Matthew continued anyway. Slowly, very, _very_ slowly, with Alfred pretty much holding onto him to keep him stable the entire way, Matthew made his way back into society. His parents knew nothing, except that he and Ivan had broken up, to which his mother expressed disappointment because “he was always such a kind man.” Matthew may not have talked to his parents as much since then. At least, not his mother. He didn’t blame her, not really, but it still hurt that his mother didn’t notice Matthew’s change in behavior when his denser brother did.

Matthew didn’t move from Alfred’s couch, not confident in his ability to survive in his own apartment, nor with the funds to do so, but he did manage to get himself a job once again. And, after feeling comfortable interacting with his co-workers, gathered the courage to begin talking to old friends again.

Francis and Arthur were the first. Mostly because Alfred had to go out of the country for two weeks on an archaeology research trip with his class and expressed his discomfort with Matthew being alone. A part of him felt insulted at being treated like a child, but he didn’t exactly trust himself either, no matter how far he had come since he appeared on Alfred’s doorstep, so he went up to the cafe Francis and Arthur had just opened and asked Francis if he could stay with them, but just for two weeks and he promised not to bother them too much.

Arthur said yes before Francis could even open his mouth to reply, which gained him a kiss on the cheek from his husband (Francis received a glare with little heat in return) and a hug for Matthew from the Frenchman.

In those two weeks, Matthew was privy to many an uncomfortable night as his friends had sex in their bedroom, but he didn’t complain. They were married, he was the intruder. They shouldn’t be ashamed of having sex with him down the hall.

Didn’t mean Matthew was able to look them in the eye the next morning, but small sacrifices.

He did eventually tell them, in very broad terms with almost no real detail, about why he had disappeared only to suddenly return to the social scene.

Arthur looked ready to murder and Francis looked ready to cry, but neither of those things happened. Just many affectionate words and gestures and Arthur going to the store to buy all three a carton of ice cream so they could watch crappy late-night comedies as a distraction.

It worked, for the most part, and Matthew felt pieces of himself return and heal that night in a way they hadn’t done in the past few months. It managed to convince him that maybe Alfred was right (which was a scary thought in and of itself) about going further to find friends again.

The next person he talked to again was Alistair. Being Arthur’s older brother, he was as much family as Arthur and Francis themselves, so Matthew felt comfortable with him. Alistair didn’t ask any questions and simply acted like they hadn’t talked for a few days instead of a few years. It was relaxing in a way Matthew hadn’t expected. Of course, he caught Alistair shooting him glances of slight concern but mostly curiosity, but he still never said a word about his disappearance and left the entire affair at that. He would probably hear tidbits of the story from Arthur anyway, so he wouldn’t exhaust himself with telling it again (and again and again and again…).

Next on his list was Tomas. He was told almost immediately that the man still preferred Ned over Tomas, and Matthew wasn’t going to question it. They met for coffee, chatted about what he missed, and was invited to hang out. It was like nothing had happened, like with Alistair, but Ned had recognized that Matthew did miss several years of gossip and quickly filled him in, as indifferent as he always appeared. But both of them knew that Ned just always had an ear open, and couldn’t really avoid gossip with Bella for a sister and Mathias and Gilbert as two of his closest friends.

And as he was on the topic of the two, Matthew decided that it would be better to tackle the both of them together, just so he didn’t have to keep them entertained alone.

It had gone as well as expected, putting those two together.

Matthew had a headache when he left their meeting spot at a restaurant, but he did have a smile on his face. They were both loud and obnoxious people, but they weren’t unkind or rude about it. That was just their personalities. And when they saw Matthew becoming uncomfortable with their volume, they lowered their voices in consideration, though Matthew told them he didn’t mind. Maybe the loud voices reminded him too much of nights long passed when the only sounds that Matthew could remember had been English and Russian screamed at him, but Matthew also knew his friends were naturally loud people and their voices sounded nothing like Ivan’s. It still made him slightly nervous, his hands twisting in his napkin for the first half hour, but after they lowered their voices, Matthew’s mood improved. He had laughed more in those two hours he spent with the pair than he had for perhaps the last three years combined. It made him realize how much he had actually deeply __missed__  his friends. Feelings were not needed for survival, and that was just how Matthew had been conditioned. But it felt nice to begin to _feel_ again.

Things were doing much better, and Matthew was beginning to look for an apartment (close to his brother, of course) so he no longer had to couch-hop, so he was doing better, he thought.

Which was always the exact time when things begin to go downhill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alistair - Scotland  
> Tomas/Ned - The Netherlands  
> Bella - Belgium  
> Mathias - Denmark  
> Feel free to ask about other names!


	3. Coping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew is getting there. Slowly. Very. Slowly. And maybe his way of coping isn't the healthiest but fuck it, what ever helps, helps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Self-blame, abuse apologist (from victim), unhealthy coping habits, recreational drug and alcohol use, dubious consent (only b/c both parties under the influence) 
> 
> Wow, has it been a while. Yeah. I'm not good with updates. Or inspiration. But I'm trying, man.
> 
> Here's another look into the process of recovery. I promise we'll get to the romance eventually. But Matthew's got some shit to work out first. And he's not doing a great job at it, but we're proud of him for trying.

The thing was that nobody told Matthew just how recovery went.

The commercials and pamphlets made it seem so __easy__ , like though it took a while, it was this thing everyone could do with no problems.

No one told Matthew just how __hard__  it was.

He didn’t expect it to be quick, with how every website talked about __time__  and __healing__ , but he didn’t expect it to be so one step forward, four steps back.

And no one told him that he would miss Ivan. __Miss. Ivan.__

The first moment he found himself missing the man and the tender moments they had shared, he had locked himself in the bathroom for hours. At least, until Alfred threatened to break down the door. It could have been hours.

Matthew knew he wouldn’t go back. He didn’t want to and Alfred would obviously never let him, and his brother’s incredible strength would do no favors for Matthew, should it happen.

Not that it would.

Right?

But really, it wasn’t totally Ivan’s fault, Matthew fucked up a lot, anyone would get mad at him. Ivan just had never known how to let out that anger except through words and fists.

He was also incredibly sweet after nights he lost his temper. Getting Matthew sunflowers, taking him out on dates, cooking dinner for him, breakfast in bed… So he obviously felt guilty about the slips.

And, in all honesty, Matthew was __lonely__. He had his brother and all of his important friends back, but… There was none of the intimacy he craved.

Maybe Ivan wasn’t good, maybe he hurt Matthew when he sometimes didn’t deserve it, but if there was one thing Ivan did right, it was affection.

The kisses traded when Matthew made breakfast. The hugs when Ivan got home from a stressful day. The cuddling during movie nights.

Matthew always felt slightly emptier when he remembered those instances and missed it.

So maybe he didn’t actually miss __Ivan__ , but instead an intimate relationship.

That had started Matthew’s desire to sleep with people.

Some (including his brother) were of the opinion that Matthew was innocent and stayed far from “promiscuity.” It was more he was very private about his personal affairs and didn’t share with those who were not involved or affected.

It took a while before he gathered the courage to seek anyone out, and he knew it couldn’t be strangers, not yet. He still had nightmares of the nights Ivan didn’t accept “no” as an answer and he doubted he would lose them anytime in the near future.

What he needed was someone he could trust to not hurt him but also to not ask any questions.

So, naturally, he turned to Ned.

They had little trysts throughout high school, before Ivan, when they would get together to get high and, well, shit happened when two people got high together.

It never entered the realm of romantic and, in all honesty, didn’t leave the realm of friendship either. They were just friends who occasionally had sex. Like friends with benefits without the inevitable romantic relationship. Honestly, Matthew probably wouldn’t ever date Ned. He was a good guy, very good at kissing and giving blowjobs, but he wasn’t really the romance type.

He was perfect to get Matthew back into the metaphorical sex pool.

He proposed the idea when they were hanging out at Ned’s apartment one night, smoke drifting lazily through the room and out the open window. Matthew thought he sounded far suaver than he actually did, but Ned didn’t do seduction. “Too much wasted time,” he had said once.

Ned agreed, and they were off to the races.

And if Matthew had been sober, he probably would have been more nervous and downright terrified, even if he trusted Ned almost as much as his own brother. But, seeing as he most definitely was __not__ , thankfully, he had the time of his life.

He had forgotten how good casual sex was. Definitely something he was going to do again. In a maybe more sober situation. Maybe.

So Matthew was back in the world of young adulthood. Drugs, sex, rock, and roll. Well, not really, but Matthew thought it sounded cool, cooler than the whole thing was, anyway,

And Ned was not the last or only friend Matthew had decided to have sex with.

He wasn’t exactly “hoeing around,” not that anyone really said that anymore, but he certainly didn’t keep it a secret from his friends.

Besides, Matthew and his group of morally ambiguous friends never made a big deal out of sex. It was a thing most people participated in. Friends, lovers, strangers, none of it mattered. It was about making someone else enjoy themselves and find enjoyment yourself.

Francis was perhaps the best of them when it came to it before he got married to Arthur. There was a lot to be said about the Frenchman, but disloyal would never be one of them.

Regardless, whenever Matthew was feeling down, or lonely, or just horny, he would shoot a text to his friends wondering who was free. Whoever answered first had him for the night.

It was fun, exciting, and he discovered a new aspect of his friends that he largely hadn’t seen before.

Something in him whispered about “unhealthy coping mechanisms” and “avoiding the problem” and whatever else the websites had advertised, but Matthew felt he was finally regaining a part of himself that he had lost years ago.

It was only when he was in the middle of typing a text for the second time in one day that he realized that maybe the whispers were right.

He needed a hobby. One that didn’t involve sex, as enjoyable as it was.

So he got a job.

It sounded easy, like he decided to and got one the next day. It was hard, no one wanted to hire, especially not when he hadn’t worked in years and had been out of school for longer, not putting his degree to use. It made Matthew look unprofessional or undedicated. And it wasn’t like he could do much with a bachelor’s in psychology. So it took a while for anyone to call him back.

But he did eventually get a call from a local hospital saying he was hired as a psychiatric technician for $14 an hour. He would first need training, of course, and he vowed to refresh himself on his psych courses, but he was excited.

Matthew had a job, was probably developing mostly healthy habits, and he didn’t even need a therapist. In fact, he was being hired as an assistant to one! He thought he was doing pretty damn well for himself.

And he was. For the most part. But recovery wasn’t easy, never really ended, and Matthew hadn’t yet realized it. Perhaps he wasn’t quite ready for a career just yet, but he’d be damned if anything stopped him from regaining some form of healthy independence.


	4. Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With recovery, there always seems to be one step forward, ten steps back. Maybe Matthew took that a little too literally, but fuck everyone else, what did they know? He was handling everything just fine, thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: self-harm (nongraphic), dissociation, self-hatred/blame, victim blaming (kind of)
> 
> So. Yeah. Been a hot minute since an update. I got busy, classes and shit, and I got that good shit crippling depression, so what can ya do? This is a very cathartic story for me and I'm not even close to being new to the chapter fic scene and understand I actually owe no one and can update as I please. Still, I should update more if I want to get some kind of following but whatev.
> 
> Anyway. I got a bit of motivation and instead of doing my backlogged Calculus 2 homework, I wrote 900ish words. Short update, ik, but whatev. It's an update. If this is all my muse has to offer, I will take it.
> 
> I also want to thank everyone for their kudos and especially INapWhenSleepy for the nice comment that made me actually remember this existed and needed something. Maybe I'll update again soon, I actually have a good idea of where this will eventually go, but it won't necessarily be happy or fast (both pace- and update-wise) so thank you to everyone who sticks with me.

Maybe working for a psychiatrist wasn’t the best idea while working through domestic abuse recovery independently.

When most of your coworkers were also proficient in psychology and spent much of their days reviewing cases of patients dealing with various past traumas and saw many of the same symptoms reflected in yourself, it led to some very probing looks. Psychology students also tended to not be the most subtle of people. Not to say they were all nosey assholes. Elizabeta, a nurse working for her Masters in pediatric psychiatry, was the best of them all, exactly the kind of person you would want to help your children. Kind and soft like a mother but hard and insistent like a doctor. Matthew was surprised she had no children of her own, what with how she handled the children of patients with such bright energy but suspected it had a lot to do with her own husband’s successful composition career and not wanting children until they had more stable, consistent careers.

She was perhaps the first to realize Matthew was a “survivor” or whatever bullshit the websites and doctors deemed him to be and the first to respect his boundaries when he said "no" but the last to bring it up. Well, not the _last_. The last person to bring it up had ended up with a broken nose. Outside of work, of course, and not his proudest moment, but Sadiq didn’t press charges or even tell their boss, simply apologized, pat his shoulder, and took him out for drinks.

_That_ was a night. Or, Matthew thought it was, at least. He remembered waking up with one hell of a headache, sore limbs, and surrounded by three other naked men, one being Sadiq and the others being people Matthew vaguely recognized but not _enough_.

He vowed off alcohol for a solid week after that.

But. Yeah. It caught up with him eventually. The psychiatrist heading the practice pulled Matthew into his office one day, asked if he was mentally fit for the job, and fired him anyway when Matthew said he was because he couldn't have Matthew "affecting the emotional health of our patients" or whatever complete bullshit he said.

Matthew was so fucking  _sorry_ his past was hurting  _business_. 

When Matthew got home, Alfred wasn’t there. At work or out with friends or _what the fuck ever_ , he didn’t care, simply threw his bag against the wall and proceeded to break several glass objects, including a picture of them when they were younger, smiling in front of the Canada-America border at Niagara Falls and a vase Alfred had bought for no other reason than to have a vase. The clock soon followed after several minutes, mocking it with its stable second ticks.

Breathing heavily and ignoring the knocks at the door from curious neighbors, Matthew sat on the floor, uncaring and perhaps even _relishing_ in the glass cutting at his legs and feet and hands. He felt better.

He didn’t really know how long he sat there, the neighbors had long since given up on their efforts and the clock broken at 5:25, ticks no longer taunting his instability. He felt okay.

_He felt okay_.

That really only happened in the moments he was swept up in the high, either through MJ or sex, but this offered the lull in his thoughts he always chased. No voices screaming his mistakes, no siren whispering the reasons he could just _go back_. It was nice. _Perfect_.

At least, until the doorknob turned, signaling Alfred’s return. Matthew didn’t stand, didn’t even move, simply sat in the living room, basking in the destruction he wrought, finally reflecting the kind echoed in him.

He knew the moment Alfred noticed him. He expected yelling, _screaming_ , grabbing, _hitting_ , and waited patiently for any punishment, knowing he deserved it for destroying what wasn’t his to destroy.

He wanted Alfred to _hate_ him, kick him out like so many before, _leave_ Matthew to _rot_ the way he _deserved_.

All Alfred did was sigh quietly, crouching in front of Matthew and holding his face gently. He flinched sharply, dislodging his brother’s rough, worn hands. Alfred simply moved them back into position, cupping Matthew’s face carefully and pulling him forward to lay a light kiss on his forehead before standing and offering to help him up.

Matthew accepted the offer, allowing himself to be manhandled to the bedroom and placed on the bed before Alfred went off to clean the mess and find the first-aid kit. He wondered if he felt guilty, if he would when feeling returned to his body and mind. But he wouldn’t know for hours and contented himself with being treated for his wounds into the night.

They’d talk later, probably involving screaming from Matthew and steady calm from Alfred, positions completely switched and throwing the universe off-kilter. Right now, it was silent comfort and care that was the reason they could never hate each other, no matter how often they hurt each other. No matter how often they argued, if one of them required help, the other put aside everything to help.

Now out of the job and walking the precarious line between emptiness and overflowing and Alfred fretting like a mother hen, Matthew needed a fucking break.

And whatever, Matthew was set in his path to counterbalance any healthy habits he had and knew just how to do that.

“Hey, Gil, how you feel about going out tonight?”


	5. Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew trusts Gilbert to give him the ride of his life. It seems they have different understandings of what that means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Triggers This Chapter
> 
> so i was (am) having a bad mental health day and, as this is my therapy piece, i decided to put on my good ol' depression playlist and write a chapter. ik it's like 4 months late but eh. it'll get finished eventually. and it's a therapy piece, it'll be done when i feel like i've written out my emotions. this also went way different from what i envisioned it going as so //shrug 
> 
> sorry if gil's OOC or whatev, but this is my interpretation of him (for this story) and i like it i think. this is also an emotional part and gil is an ass but he knows when to be serious. he'll be more rambunctious as time goes on.
> 
> anyway enjoy  
> //throws into the void

Gilbert was the guy who knew how to have a damn good time. Maybe not a legal one, but a good one all the same.

A few years older than him, Matthew had only heard rumors about him in high school. Once he started hanging out with Ned and Mathias, he occasionally saw him at parties, still relying on rumors to feed her perceptions of the strange man.

They went from strangers to good friends in the course of a single night. A night hazy from weed and drinks, but still hazy. Matthew really didn’t remember much, just that it ended in Gilbert’s bed and with a series of text messages on his phone. The rest was history.

Despite being good friends, they both kept their personal lives just that: personal. Matthew knew he had a younger brother and a grandfather, but he never mentioned any parents. Matthew knew the man drank like a fish and smoked like a fire, but get needles anywhere near him and he’d disappear faster than anything. He had a thing with Roderich and Elizabeta, but it ended abruptly, and all Matthew heard about the start or end of it was babbling from a drunk Gilbert over the phone that wasn’t very intelligible. Gilbert didn’t know much more about Matthew regarding his personal life, either. That was how they worked.

Which was perfect for Matthew, especially right now. He wanted someone who didn’t know enough to ask questions.

Once Alfred had finished his fussing and went to clean the kitchen, Matthew went around quietly getting ready. Gilbert said he’d be by Matthew’s in half an hour. He tried to give a little more time for Matthew to get ready, but he wanted to get out of the apartment before Alfred decided he was okay enough to talk.

About fifteen minutes later, Matthew figured he’d just wait outside instead of waiting for the heavy air of the apartment to suffocate him. It wasn’t like the winter weather could make him anymore numb than he was or wanted to be.

“Mattie?” Alfred called from the kitchen, mop in hand with a suspiciously heavy plastic bag next to him beside the trashcan.

“Just going out for a smoke, Al,” he replied quietly, grabbing the package of cigarettes from his pocket to show he wasn’t lying, even if he was. Matthew hadn’t smoked cigarettes since high school.

But Alfred didn’t know that. “Okay, just… When you come back, can we talk?”

Matthew offered a tired smile. “Sure thing.” And he left.

Yeah, fuck that. He definitely wasn’t talking about what happened. He even left his phone in his nightstand, so Alfred couldn’t contact him. As much as he loved his brother, the last thing he needed was to talk about anything personal.

So, he stood outside the apartment complex on the street corner, nodding at people who passed and watching the hypnotic way his breath fogged in the streetlight with every exhale, taking the time he had to himself to judge how okay or fucked up he was. The answer was firmly in the “fucked up” category but Matthew was totally at a loss as where to even begin. That psychology major did fuck all when psychoanalyzing oneself. He always thought he’d understand the patient far more if he were in their head, but now that he was, he was fucking befuddled on which issue to address first.

And maybe he should do the obvious and stop being self-destructive (or just straight up destructive like he was earlier) and work on each issue one step at a time but fuck it. Matthew didn’t want to do that. He wanted to go out with a wildfire person (to which Gilbert fit the bill perfectly) and forget he was alive (or _remember_  he was alive) for a while.

He was eternally thankful when he heard the telltale rumbling of Gilbert’s ancient motorcycle and saw said vehicle moments later. Gilbert had had that vehicle for longer than Matthew knew him. Matthew had no knowledge of motorcycles, but he did know it was ancient and only running because Gilbert nurtured it and spent all his spare money on keeping it running. At least, that’s what Gilbert made it sound like.

Pulling it up beside Matthew and shutting it off so it didn’t deafen them, Gilbert slit off his helmet and grinned. “Hey Birdie!”

 “Hey, Gilly,” he replied tiredly, offering a small quirk of his lips in return.

Gilbert quirked an eyebrow but didn’t ask, leaning to grab his extra helmet and handing it over to Matthew. “Ready for an awesome adventure?”

Matthew pulled his hands from his pockets, wincing at the white bandages wrapped (overly-so, in his opinion. The bleeding was done when Alfred began wrapping them) around his hands but relaxing when Gilbert did nothing more than put his own helmet back on and scoot forward to make room for Matthew.

Slipping the helmet over his head, Matthew straddled the bike and sat with a small amount of space in between them. Gilbert balanced the bike and started it again, slowly pulling away from the curb.

Matthew didn’t really know where they were going, but anywhere was better than the apartment.

As they picked up speed, Matthew was forced to sit thigh-to-thigh with Gilbert and to wrap his arms around his middle for security. If he did it tighter than really necessary, Gilbert didn’t seem to notice.

Matthew was expecting a bar, a rock club, hell, even a sports bar. He was not expecting to pull up to Francis and Arthur’s café, especially when it was a good four hours past closing, though the lights were still on. He could see Arthur on the phone with a frown and Francis sitting across from him, back to Matthew, though he seemed tense.

“Sorry, Mattie, just gotta drop something off to Franny real quick,” he said once the bike was off an propped up. He offered an apologetic smile as he hopped off and ran inside, the door surprisingly unlocked.

Matthew watched them talk for a minute, hand gestures wild at first, and Matthew could almost hear Arthur’s loud voice from outside. He felt eyes move to him occasionally, and it caused enough anxiety in Matthew that he stopped and fiddled with the bandages on his hands. After another minute or so, Matthew heard the door open and he looked up to only see Gilbert step out, looking just as relaxed as when he entered, though Francis and Arthur were clearly watching them with worry.

“Sorry that took so long, Birdie. Dropped off bet money and Arthur got pissed at that, you know how he is,” Gilbert said with a smirk, getting back onto the bike easily and waving as they left.

Matthew figured that was just a pitstop on a night of fun, but he knew the path to the highway and the one Gilbert was taking wasn’t it. In fact, they were really going more into the farmlands surrounding town than towards the city or even more crowded parts of town.

After going down several dirt roads, they ended in what seemed to be the middle of a field, moon- and starlight the only thing besides the motorcycle headlight guiding them and when Gilbert turned off the bike and parked it, the sky really was the only thing keeping the area lit.

“Gilbert, where the fuck are we?” Matthew finally asked, scooting back from Gilbert and eyeing him warily.

Gilbert took the helmet off and stood, stretching his arms and legs before sitting back down, now sideways instead of straddling the motorcycle. “Yeah, change of plans, Birdie. No parties tonight.”

Matthew took off his own helmet and held it carefully, staring into his barely perceivable reflecting before darting his gaze up to the man in front of him. “Why not?”

Gilbert remained looking out into the distance, eyes tracing the occasional fence line and spattering of crops. “Don’t feel like it. Figured we could use a night of just chilling, ya know?”

Matthew scowled and tossed the helmet at Gilbert’s feet before he stood and moved a few feet away. “Really? That’s it? No other reason other than just not wanting to?”

Gilbert looked at him carefully, giving nothing away. Damn him, Gilbert always had the best poker face of them all. He was as sharp as a hawk and you never knew what he knew about you or anyone else. In another life, he would’ve been an amazing tactician for any military. “Nah, not really. Unless you have a reason for calling me to go out and party and forget shit? Anything like that, Mattie?”

He should’ve called Ned. Ned really didn’t care if Matthew was fucked up. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about his friends, he just thought that people could take care of themselves and he wouldn’t stop anyone from doing something if it wasn’t his problem.

Gilbert… Was not like that. He’d do anything with you, but if he thought you were doing it for any reason besides just having fun, he was out.

Matthew should have known better.

“Who told you?” Matthew asked, shoving his bandaged hands in his pockets and out of sight.

Gilbert leaned back a little more and shrugged. “I didn’t need anyone to. I know you, Mattie. I don’t know what happened, but you have bandaged hands and you look fucking rough. The moment I saw you I decided we weren’t doing a fucking thing tonight. Franny and Artie just confirmed it. Seems you went out for a smoke and didn’t come back and just so happened to leave your phone at the apartment. And from what Artie told me, Al was freaking out. I’m guessing something happened before you left and I’m also guessing it has to do with your hands getting fucked up. So, no, Mattie, I’m not helping you get fucked up because you won’t deal with shit. You don’t disappear for years and come back fine.”

Matthew took a sharp inhale. Gilbert had disappeared for a little bit around the end of his senior year and came back about two years later. They never talked about it, but Matthew knew he was different. More mature, however much Gilbert could be mature. Though, really, Gilbert at 20 was a far cry from Gilbert at 25. Gilbert at 20 would never have done this.

“Fuck off, Gil. Just take me back to the apartment if you’re gonna pull this shit. I’m not talking about it,” Matthew barked back, hunching his shoulders and dropping his head, doing anything to make himself appear smaller. He didn’t want to fucking talk, he just wanted to drink until his thoughts ran from him like everyone else.

“That’s fine, I’m not asking you to talk. I’m just not letting you do anything unhealthy,” Gilbert replied, voice still as even as when they began talking and God, did it piss Matthew off. How could Gilbert feel so even and fine when Matthew hadn’t felt that way in half a decade?

“Don’t act like you don’t get fucked up every week Gil, I’ve been to too many parties with you,” Matthew replied, pulling out his hands only to cross his arms.

Gilbert finally looked at him, but his face was so even, glowing pale in the moonlight and _damn him_ for making Matthew feel like the problem child here. “I’m not gonna tell you what to do or how to do it, Mattie. But I am gonna tell you that we’re all really fucking worried about you, and pulling this shit isn’t helping your case and I’m not gonna help you pull this shit. If you gotta get away for a couple hours and drift, or you wanna go out and have some fun, I’m all for it, but I’m not gonna help you combine the two.” After several beats of silence, Gilbert carefully stood and walked over to Matthew, pausing every time Matthew showed hesitance or fear, approaching him like a skittish, wounded animal until he was able to rest both hands on his upper arms like he were supporting Matthew.

And maybe he was. “We wanna help you, Mattie. I wanna help you. But we can’t if you don’t let us, don’t let me. You don’t gotta say anything, but don’t do this stuff, alright?” he muttered gently, rubbing up and down Matthew’s arms gently, fighting away the cold, not just the temperature.

Matthew stared at Gilbert for a second, eyes wide and confused, before they began to burn and frigid tears slipped down his cheeks. Gilbert simply pulled him into an embrace, muttering soothing words in German.

Gripping the cold leather jacket, the harsh wind biting at his bare skin, Matthew felt warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didn't really end like i wanted it to, muses were not cooperating, but it's alright


End file.
